A Night to Remember
by prospectkiss
Summary: Garrus and Shepared enjoy their night together before hitting the relay.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story; they are the intellectual property of Bioware. I make no profit from making this story available online. I'm just happy I can play in their world.

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_We'll find some calm just before the storm..._

The irony wasn't lost on the turian. The Collecters waited just beyond the Omega relay, a dark and ominous cloud casting its shadow over the remains of the crew. Everyone was holding their breath, nervously clinging to that last bit of clean air before the lightning left its metallic bite and the rain poured.

And instead of finding, of _sharing_, a safe refuge, he floundered. He felt like he was drowning already.

Garrus watched with a sinking feeling as the woman he admired above all others, the one he was crazy enough for to even _consider_ something like this, slowly walked away. He was certain he had already tainted the evening, and he found himself thinking of excuses, hasty apologies, anything to salvage this shipwreck.

But instead, to his profound relief she just smiled and pressed the panel on the side of the wall, turning off the awful club music. The sudden quiet stole away any distraction from the situation he was in - this awkward prelude with his commander.

With Shepard.

"I just..."

He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor, trying to find the right way to explain how he felt.

He was tense. Excited. Nervous as hell. Keenly aware of what was _supposed _to happen. But...

"I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard," he admitted, unable to keep his fears from spilling out. "My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis..." He finally lifted his eyes, daring to meet hers. "I want something to go right. Just once. Just..."

She brought her hand to the side of his face, slowly drawing it across the scars from the gunship attack, silencing him with the tender gesture. She could feel the tension radiating from him, almost palpable. In her heart, she knew that Garrus wanted this - wanted _her_, just as she wanted him. She tried to reassure him with her steady look that nothing would go wrong with this - with _them_.

He shut his eyes and leaned forward; she did the same, pressing her forehead against his. A brief moment passed between them, filled with electricity and warmth. Slowly, carefully, he raised his arm to brush gently against hers.

"Garrus, we don't have to rush this. We can take it slow," she said, moving a little closer and tracing her fingers down the sleeve of his long tunic. She grabbed the decanter and tugged it out of his grip. "Why don't we start with this?" she asked, holding up the wine and smiling gently.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders back. "Yeah," he breathed, relief evident in his voice. "I could use a drink."

As eager as Shepard was for the evening to... _proceed_, it was more important to put Garrus at ease. She opened her cabinet and snatched up two wine glasses; she set them on the table in front of the sofa as Garrus seated himself, resting with his elbows on his knees.

She pulled out the stopper and leaned over to pour herself a generous amount of red wine. The last droplet clung to the rim of the bottle, and she wiped it off with her fingertip and brought it up to her lips, slowly licking it off. She noticed Garrus had gone very still and was watching her intently, eyes tracing around her mouth.

"Well, you've shown me yours," she said cheekily, nodding toward the wine. She returned to the cabinet to pull out a bottle of her own. "Why don't I show you mine?"

Garrus's mandibles flared out, and she smirked.

He leaned back against the sofa as she perched next to him, pouring out a bright yellow liquid for the turian. He nodded appreciatively as he caught the subtle aroma. "Fancy. Alcohol straight from Palaven. Guess commanders do get the best."

"There are perks to being in charge," she agreed, lifting her glass. "Well Garrus, here's to a night to treasure."

"Right," he said slowly, clinking his glass with hers and then promptly draining its contents.

"Hey, go easy on that," Shepard chided, laughing, refilling the glass. "That stuff's expensive, you know."

"Well, it's not like _you're_ ever going to drink it," he replied, throat burning. He sipped at the alcohol this time, savoring the heady flavor. "How did you get this, anyway?"

She swirled her wine around. "Oh, it was a gift from the turian bartender at Afterlife," she said. "I put on a skimpy dress, swung around a pole, shook my ass at him..."

She tried to keep a straight face, failed, and burst out laughing. It was rich, deep, and caught him off-guard. He hadn't heard her laugh quite like that before, so free and joyous. He wanted to hear more of it, and part of his mind ran away in search of jokes, stories, anything to make her laugh like that for him again.

The rest of his mind was quite content picturing Shepard in a short blue dress, shoulders bare, midriff cut out to reveal a flat stomach and navel and hips flaring out _just so_-

"Garrus? Garrus, it was a joke," Shepard interrupted his thoughts, waving her hand in front of his face.

He blinked and refocused his attention, sweeping his gaze over his friend. "Hmm," he growled and quickly took a swig of alcohol. He tilted his head, eyes glinting mischevously. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the image."

She punched him on the shoulder and he laughed. She smiled; he was finally relaxing - time to test the waters. She reached across to Garrus's other shoulder and pulled, sliding herself onto his lap. His eyes widened and he shifted instinctually, jostling her and causing some of her wine to spill out.

"Careful," he said, leaning forward to quickly set his drink on the table and steady her glass, grasping her hand and pressing his chest against her side. She turned her head to meet his slightly surprised look, smiling warmly.

He had never been so close to her before. Well, that wasn't exactly true; he could think of occassions when he lifted her up on the battlefield, or when she dragged him down into cover. But none of those times were quite so... _intimate_. Those moments didn't allow him to catch the honeyed scent of her hair, or feel the weight of her pressed against him.

He glanced back at her glass and realized he was clenching her hand. He released it and traced the tip of his foretalon across each of her fingers. So many fingers, so small; it would take two or three of them to equal one of his own talons. His hand hung in the air for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do when he ran out of fingers to graze; hesitantly, he placed it on top of her thigh.

He settled back against the sofa, lifting his other arm against Shepard's back to steady her. She leaned into the touch, and his heart thrilled.

"So, how did you really get this wine?" he asked, turning his head to the side, feeling his pulse speed up.

"From Captain - I mean Councillor Anderson," she said. The skin on her arm felt warm from where Garrus had pressed against it, and his had was moving gently across her back, talons lightly scratching.

"He gave it to me after one of our visits to the Citadel a few weeks ago. Gave me a whole box of different wines. Said he'd kept them for two years, since before... before the accident," she faltered slightly, smile dimming. "He'd gotten one for the whole squad, a different bottle for everyone on the Normandy team. For saving the galaxy. One for Tali, Wrex, Liara, Kaiden..."

Garrus rubbed harder against her back, soothing the sudden tenseness that crept over her. From the base of her neck to just beneath her shoulder blades, in slow, careful sweeps, his hand pressed into her, trying to not go past her ribs where her waist dipped in.

She closed her eyes, arching against his hand, and hummed low in her throat, reveling in his touch. Garrus filed away this new knowledge, that humans, or Shepard at least, liked having their back rubbed. For next time. Assuming there would be a next time.

Her eyes opened and she smiled brightly. "Now I'm keeping them for new celebrations. When Wrex gets the clans settled, I'll give him his. When Liara finds the Shadow Broker, we'll open hers and get drunk off our asses."

"And this one was for me, right?" Garrus asked, eyes crinkling. He quickly ran his talon up her spine, delighting in her shiver. "Why did you open it now?"

She cupped her hand against his face, leaned over and pressed her cheek next to his. "Because this is a special occassion," she murmured, and enjoyed the turian's sharp intake of breath.

She swept her hand up from his cheek to the eyepiece he perpetually wore. She pulled it off and looked into his sharp blue eyes. Without the equipment, he seemed strangely vulnerable; she couldn't remember a time he was without it. He opened his mouth, as if to protest, but quickly closed it.

She pulled back and set the eyepiece and her glass next to Garrus's forgotten drink on the table, aware of him watching her closely. She leaned back toward him and snaked her arm around his shoulders. Her hand settled in the dip between his neck and the ridge on his back.

"I want this fight to be over," she stated, nimbly running her fingers along the ridge, teasing the fabric. His talons skimmed lower, nestling in her lower back, moving gently. "I want to throw the Reapers into Hell. I want us to take control of our own destinies." She slid her hand up to the back of his head, just touching the underside of his fringe.

Her hand felt amazing. Boldly, Garrus moved his own over to her waist, sliding it up and down along the soft curve. His eyes fell shut and he groaned low in his throat, barely audible, but Shepard felt it reverberate through her. The hand on her thigh squeezed tighter, his head falling back against her hand.

"I want us to find our own futures," she continued, shifting and throwing her leg over his, straddling him. "I want us to be who we want to be." She rocked forward, pressed her chest against his. Both of his hands clenched at her waist, holding her close, and he looked up at her, eyes filled with emotion.

Shepard wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her face against his again. "I want to be with you, Garrus," she whispered. She pressed her lips to the bottom of his cheek, kissing the warm metallic skin. She dragged her mouth across his face down to his mandible, softly kissing the end where it framed his mouth, wrapped her lips around the point and gently sucked on it for an instant before making her way back to the top of his cheek.

"What do _you_ want, Garrus?" she purred, her breath ghosting hotly, and she felt him tremble beneath her.

"I..." he started, voice low and throaty. He pulled her back to look fully at her, eyes banked with heat. She waited with baited breath. "I want you, Shepard."

"Then take me."

His eyes flared, and with alarming speed he crushed himself to Shepard, throwing his arms around her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Every moment, every glance and awkward joke and secret spilled and words of comfort and trust confided, every bullet fired and blood spilled and tactics gone wrong and tactics gone _right_, every instance where they lived and breathed and died coalesced into overwhelming passion.

She was here, right now, in this last night before they hit the relay and gambled their lives again for the fate of the galaxy. In this moment she was alive, warm and writhing and _willing_, and he was drowning again and he didn't care because he was drowning in _her_.

He had to have more of her.

He traced his hands down her back, found the hem of her shirt, and slipped his talons underneath. Instead of hard plates and leathery ridges he found smooth, supple flesh, muscles taut beneath soft skin, so different from turian women and _damn_ that made him want her more. He moved up to her shoulders, his arms disappearing beneath the strained fabric, stretched to its limit.

Shepard gasped; his touch felt so different from any of the men she'd been with before. Their hands were usually rough with callouses, but Garrus felt sharp and hard and strong, and she was immediately aware that if they weren't careful she could end up with bruises or worse. She knew Garrus would never intentionally hurt her, but the hint of danger thrilled her.

She lifted his head from her neck and pressed her lips against his mouth. He made a small noise of surprise and stilled, unsure of what to do. He couldn't reciprocate, but she didn't care. She moved her mouth over his, kissing him again and again, tracing her lips against the hard metal skin. His jaw fell slack and Shepard took the opportunity to dip her tongue inside his mouth, carefully flicking over his pointed teeth before pushing further. She touched the tip of her tongue to his and she heard him draw a quick gasp. Smiling to herself, she tangled her tongue with his, and he groaned. After a minute of bliss, she finally pulled back.

"You okay?" she asked, remembering Mordin's advice and suddenly fearful that he would have an adverse reaction.

"Yeah," he said, sounding dazed. "You?"

"Never better," she smirked.

"Never done that before," he admitted, eyes gleaming, "but I think I like it."

She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing, looking devious. Without any warning, she lifted the end of her shirt and threw it over her head; Garrus suddenly found himself looking at more of Shepard than he'd ever seen before.

His eyes drifted from her face to her neck and then lower, following the smooth skin across her shoulders and down her front to the cleft between her breasts. He'd noticed in passing that some of the clothing human women (and sometimes asari) wore seemed designed to draw attention to this area, and that the men in bars grew increasingly rowdy when more of this flesh was exposed, but he never understood what was so fascinating.

She still wore some kind of undergarment which hugged around her breasts. He reached toward the bottom of the fabric and started to tug it off over her head, but she stilled his hands.

"Here," Shepard said, reaching behind her back and unfastening her bra, and it slipped off her shoulders. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks as Garrus just stared. She tilted her head to the side, wondering if she was too alien for this to work after all. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Garrus hesitantly trailed a warm hand down her chest; her words turned into a hum of approval when he reached the swell of her breast.

He was surprised at how soft the flesh was - he wasn't expecting it to yeild so readily to his touch. He gently squeezed and noticed how Shepard shut her eyes and sighed. He brought his other hand up and mimicked the action, pushed both breasts together and delighted at how pliable she was.

He was beginning to understand the appeal.

He cupped one breast, massaging it slowly, and grazed his foretalon over the rosy tip of the other. Shepard shuddered and gasped and he stopped, afraid he had hurt her, but she looked up at him with fire in her eyes and a lopsided smile. He flared out his mandibles and redoubled his efforts, teasing both points with increasing satisfaction as Shepard threw back her head and _moaned_.

He had never heard her make that kind of noise before, never imagined she could sound so... so _sexy_. For him. Lust poured through him. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and swiped his tongue along her neck, from her throat to just below her ear, tasting her smooth skin .

She shivered. "I like that," she said, a little breathless, thrilling at his strong hands and rough tongue.

"Which part?" He nuzzled behind her ear and breathed in her scent, enjoying how her hair tickled his face.

"All of it," she gasped, and he continued licking her neck and squeezing her breasts. He lightly pinched her nipples and they hardened into pert nubs.

He was abruptly aware that they weren't the only things hardening as his blood rushed to his groin, and with the way Shepard wiggled in his lap and coyly lifted an eyebrow, he knew she must have felt it too.

Feeling acutely embarrassed, he tried to distract her by gliding his hands down her back. Taking a moment to revel in the curve of her bare waist, he brushed against the top of her pants. He looked up, eyes silently questioning as he pulled at the cloth.

She immediately understood what he wanted. Heart racing, she took a steadying breath and rose up on her knees. She leaned against him, pressing her breasts into his hard chest and burrowing her face into his neck. She grabbed at his shoulders, clutching tightly, and slowly licked along his neck, noting his shudder as he maneuvered the fabric down her hips. All too suddenly, the cloth of both pants and panties pooled around her knees and she shivered in the sudden cold.

They both remained still for a moment, just breathing heavily. She twitched when she felt his hand return to her back, goosebumps sweeping across her body. Slowly, he drew his talons down until he finally reached the curve of her ass. He lightly carressed the skin, and she shivered.

Again, so different from turian women Where they would be sharp-angled hips and flat, scaled posteriors she was smooth and round and, he discovered, so very _squeezable_.

She felt him place both hands on her rear, grabbing lower, and he reached the tops of her legs. He started to run his hands down the backs of her thighs, and she remembered what kind of position she was in: straddling her dear friend, her _Garrus_, legs set wide apart. She could feel the effect his touch was having on her, caught the scent of her own arousal.

Shoving aside any sense of awkwardness or embarrassment, she pushed back from him, looking him boldly in his blue, hooded eyes.

His talons slid back to her hips as she moved. It dawned on Garrus that here in his own lap Shepard was essentially naked. His commander, his superior, was completely bared to him.

And he was still fully dressed.

He felt a primal thrill at the situation, the sense that he had some advantage over her; but the thought was fleeting behind the feeling of masculine pride that this great woman would be so open and even _vulnerable_ with him. He growled, low and predatory, as he drank all of her in.

As his eyes roamed over her figure, he learned something new: humans did not just have hair on their heads. Intriguing. The patch was shaped into a trim line and was the same color as the hair on top, only curly. He brushed the back of his talons across the thatch and heard her draw a sharp breath. He pressed more and finally, _finally_ found some familiar territory; here, in this secret place, Shepard was not so different from turian females.

She was warm and wet, her folds yeilding easily as he nimbly explored, careful not to use the tips of his talons but instead the softer flesh of his fingers and knuckles. Shepard groaned loudly, panting between gasps of _Oh_ and _Mmm_. Her noises were music to him, every note spurring him to rub harder, softer, faster, slower, anything to keep her making those sounds. She writhed, wanton and careless, clawing at his shoulders with intense strength and rocking and grinding against his hand.

Garrus was breathless, stunned by how erotic she looked and sounded, head swimming with her earthy scent. His blood was on fire, and he knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

His knuckle brushed against a harder nub near her opening, and Shepard suddenly arched her back and cried out. He glanced up in alarm, freezing his hand, fear racing through him that he had caused her pain.

He had stopped; no, no, no. She grabbed his face with both hands and looked at him, her eyes wild. "Garrus," she panted, "please... please, don't stop."

His eyes lit up and his mandibles flared out and he growled; he treated her breathless request as a command, as if his very life depended on pleasing her. He returned to teasing that hard nub, Shepard's fingers gripping painfully tight at his shoulders, but he didn't care.

She moaned and shut her eyes, feeling waves of pleasure wash through her. She twitched in surprise when she felt the turian's free hand return to her breast, squeezing and pinching. A moment later she felt something warm and wet and rough graze across her other breast; she cracked her eyes open to find Garrus skimming his tongue across her nipple.

It all became too much: his hands, his tongue, his eagerness. The waves of pleasure built up to a crescendo and her breath hitched in her throat, lost in the throes of bliss. Finally the wave crested and broke, and she let out a long cry as blinding pleasure surged through her.

She collapsed in his arms, breathing hard against his neck. That had felt nothing short of _amazing_. She hummed low, pressing a kiss to her turian's cheek, before dropping bonelessly against his chest.

Garrus felt dazed. He was fairly certain he had just made Shepard experience the peak of pleasure, something turian females couldn't experience, well, without being joined. He was in awe of Shepard's display of passion, the moment seared into his memory. But they hadn't yet been _together_, and already she had found her release.

Did this mean the night was finished?

He lost track of how long they stayed that way, holding Shepard against him, sweeping his talons through her soft hair. Her breathing slowly became more normal but she didn't stir; he wondered if she had fallen asleep. Part of Garrus was disappointed; he had been so anxious about this night, and for it to be over already was disheartening. Another part of him was deeply satisfied that _he_ was the one to make Shepard feel so good, that he got to see her in such a private moment, and that he could bring her a bit of happiness before going on this suicidal mission. If nothing else, the night was worthwhile for that experience alone.

He shifted her in his arms, pushing the remains of her clothes down to the ground, and carryed her over to her bed. He carefully laid her down, intending to let her rest, when he felt her hand catch his and pull him down onto the bed.

"Garrus," she purred, sitting up, eyes gleaming and smiling coyly. "I'm not done with you yet."

His pulse raced. "You're... not done?"

The smile turned downright wicked. "Not even close." She brought his hand up to her mouth and laid a gentle kiss on his palm. She kissed each finger, and at the last one she brushed her tongue lightly against the underside, a sly look on her face.

Garrus felt lost. How could she have recovered already? When most turian women finished, they _finished_. Moreover, what was so enticing about his talons? And... why did her licking them send little shivers up his spine?

Shepard took advantage of his confusion to grab the end of his tunic and swiftly strip it off of him. He blinked rapidly, still adjusting his expectations for the night as she eyed him over. The ridge around his neck tapered down to his front, where several metallic plates fit together over his chest like old medieval armor. They shifted subtly as he breathed, giving the impression of immense strength barely contained beneath the panels. They were the same light brown as the rest of his metallic skin, through perhaps a bit smoother. She felt a twinge of nervousness - they looked sharp.

Slowly, she brought her hand up to rest against his chest. To her relief, the plates were blunted. She leaned and pressed her cheek against the plates, listening to his rapidly beating heart, feeling his warmth seeping into her. Once more, his long arms encircled her, holding her tightly.

She lifted her head and began tracing her fingers all across his chest, sliding between the plates and smoothing over the broad panes. She followed her fingers with her lips, tracing the same paths, occasionally licking at his skin. He seemed pleased enough, slowly running his hand down her back as she moved, but none of her motions triggered anything more than a quiet sigh. She bit her lip, concluding that perhaps Garrus had no pleasure spots here.

Remembering what seemed to affect him earlier, she shifted and brought her lips to his neck and her hands to the inside of his ridge. Garrus groaned softly, and once more Shepard followed her fingers with lips and tongue, causing the turian to shiver.

"You humans really like to use your mouths," he mumbled, eyes closed.

"You could say we've got a talent for it," she smirked as she moved off the bed and pulled Garrus to his feet. "Here, I'll show you."

He tilted his head, wondering what she was up to, when she put her hands to the edge of his pants. She hesitated, giving him time to stop her, and when he didn't move she took it as tacit permission. Carefully, she tugged the pants down to the ground, making sure not to catch the fabric on the back of his leg spurs.

Like the rest of Garrus, he was covered in a metallic skin here too. His legs were lean and muscular, made for running and leaping. The plating was sparse here, only covering the knees, feet, and legspurs. His backside was flat and his hips were sharply angular, and in between...

Shepard quickly drew in her breath. Here was a part of Garrus that _didn't_ look harsh or sharp. His member was longer and thinner than those of most human males, and it looked like it was covered in a softer skin, more like leather than plates or scales, with interesting ridges at the tip. It had a slightly blue tinge, already swollen and erect.

She was relieved; she had wondered just how well their bits would fit together, and fortunately turians did not seem so different from humans. Garrus, though, looked distinctly nervous. "Shepard, I..." he began, looking away, talons clenching and unclenching.

"It's all right," she assured him, looking up and cupping her hand against his face, turning him to look at her. She smiled gently, sliding her hand back down his torso. She heard him hum low in his throat when she reached his waist and she rubbed her hands around the softer metallic skin; out of the corner of her eye she noticed his member twitch. She moved to his hips, sliding over the pointed ends, and the rumble in his chest grew louder.

Finally, she brought her hand over his shaft. He gasped and jerked, pressing harder into her light touch. She cupped her hand and trailed her fingers up its length, prompting him to let out a long, low groan. Pleased that this apparantly felt as good as she'd hoped it would, she wrapped her hand around it fully and slowly pulled back and forth.

He shuddered, head dipped low, and brought his arms up to her shoulders to steady himself. Her touch was very different from what he was used to, so soft, no talons to tease him. He fought hard not to rock up into her fist, not to grind into her as fast as he could, feeling weak in the knees. He savored each pull, the lack of hard skin on her hands causing her to move smoothly over him, a torturous pleasure.

Good; he was enjoying this. Shepard felt her heart swell with pride that he let her do this for him, strengthening her deep affection for the turian. Feeling bolder, she slowed her strokes, causing Garrus to look up. Before he could protest, she placed a finger against his mouth, silencing him, and knelt.

She grabbed his shaft and pulled it towards her mouth. Watching him carefully, she pressed her lips against the base, kissing softly. Garrus' eyes flew wide, mandibles flaring out farther than she'd seen before, and his talons gripped tighter into her shoulders, scratching slightly. She dragged her lips up to the tip, pressing a gentle kiss to the end. She was grateful that he wasn't leaking here like human men would; it made the toxicity issue less of a hassle. She pressed her tongue to the underside, licking along the length; he tasted like metal and leather, and something spicy and masculine and sensual that she couldn't identify.

He groaned loudly, grip becoming painful. She paused to pry his talons off her shoulders for a moment, relaxing her muscles from his intense hold. "Shep... Shepard, I'm sorry," he tried to tell her, panting, but she ignored him. Instead, she took hold of his organ again, licked her lips, and kissed the tip once more. Keeping her eyes carefully locked on his, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth.

Garrus threw back his head and moaned. This was a new experience, something turian women could _never_ do. She slowly worked her way down his length, taking as much of him in as she could and wrapping her fingers around the rest. He felt her tongue swirling around him, her mouth hot and wet, and he collapsed onto the bed, pulling together his control at the last moment to stay sitting up.

She followed him, mouth never losing contact. She used the change in his position to start bobbing her head back and forth, using her lips and tongue and fingers to pleasure him all at once. He moaned again, chest rumbling, resisting the primal urge to thrust wildly into the delicious heat of her mouth. He lost track of time, of everything, wrapped in the feel of her moving on him.

Then he felt her suck gently, and he couldn't stop himself from bucking into her. She pulled back quickly, coughing, and through the haze of lust he felt a surge of panic.

"Shepard! I'm sorry!" he gasped, quickly pulling her up against him, holding her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, willing her rapidly beating heart back under control. "I'm fine. A little out of practice, though."

"No, I think you're quite talented enough," he teased, reassured that she was not hurt. A part of him was relieved that she stopped; if she had kept going he wouldn't have lasted, bringing a quick and embarrassing end to the evening. As it was, he was happy to still be _ready_ for her.

They remained in each other's arms, metal skin pressing to bare flesh, each catching their breath. After a few moments, Shepard squirmed. "I think I know what he meant by 'chafing' now," she murmured, pulling back. Sure enough, small patches of red dotted her skin where she had rubbed up against Garrus, darker around her shoulders.

"What?"

"Just something the professor warned me about. He was, ah, keen to help us out."

"Oh." Though Mordin was a doctor and a friend, Garrus remembered the mortifying conversation they had earlier in the week; he supposed Shepard had some sort of talk with him, too.

"Just a sec," she instructed, moving over to the bedside table and pulling out a small bottle. "Here," she said, handing it to him, "this should make it easier."

"What is it?" he asked, prying off the top and sniffing. Hmm. Something floral.

"Lotion."

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Well, I could rub some on me," she said slyly, "but I think it'd be more fun if you did it."

She was starting to love how his mandibles twitched. And how other parts of him twitched, too.

She tipped some of the lotion into her hand and smoothed it onto her arm. Garrus followed suit, rubbing more onto her other arm. She closed her eyes and sighed, letting Garrus surprise her with where his next touch would be.

His talons roamed over her, across her shoulders, where he tried to rub away any harm left over from gripping her earlier; around her chest, where he squeezed and hefted each breast; over her stomach and delightful waist; around to cover her back; down each leg, which were deceptively long; and finally between them, amazed at her renewed shivers and moans.

He lingered here, then tossed the bottle aside and pressed himself down onto the bed with Shepard beneath him. She was slick from the lotion and moved easily against him. She smelled like flowers now, but he was more entranced with her own musky scent which the lotion couldn't overpower. The anticipation between them grew, sparking through the air. He pushed her legs further apart and settled between them.

"Are you sure?" he asked, needing to be certain that Shepard really wanted this.

She pressed a kiss to his mouth and smiled. "I trust you, Garrus."

His eyes grew soft and he traced the back of his hand across her cheek. He reached down and lined himself up with her opening, rubbing his tip slowly back and forth. She bit down on her lip, holding her breath, joining her hand down with his. Slowly, carefully, he pushed forward and she guided him inside.

Her breath hitched in her throat as he eased into her, inch by inch. Garrus let out a long, low groan as he sank inside.

There was some pain, and Garrus waited after each push to let her adjust to him. She remembered this kind of feeling from her first few times long ago, and then she remembered that Cerberus had rebirthed her. This was her first time to have sex in her new body, and the revelation made her gasp.

"Shepard?" He paused, peering into her eyes.

"It's fine, Garrus," she said, breathing deeply. "It's just... been a while."

"Me too," he admitted. A moment later and he was fully inside her. He leaned down, pressing his body into hers, buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, hands gripping the covers on either side of her, panting. She was wet and hot and incredibly _tight_, and it felt like heaven.

After a little bit the pain ebbed away, and she sighed and ran her hands over Garrus' back. She flexed her internal muscles, gripping him tightly, silently urging him to move.

He arched up as she held on to him, and he looked into her eyes as he gave a tentative, shallow thrust. She moaned softly, and encouraged, he pulled out and sunk in deeper. He set a rhythm of long strokes, thrilled when her hips started to buck up to meet each thrust. He moved faster, pleasure steadily building.

Shepard moaned louder, feeling waves of pleasure build inside her once more. She hardly felt any chafing, the lotion keeping her slick. She grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his, mindful of his leg spurs. Without warning she pushed against Garrus, flipping him beneath her, and she grinned devilishly. She sat up, bracing her hands on his chest, and rode him, gripping him between her thighs, rising and plunging, moaning wantonly.

Her breasts were bouncing and swaying, and Garrus found himself almost hypnotized by their movements. He reached up to grasp one, flicking his talon over her nipple and relishing the gasp and squeeze he received in return. He slid his hand to where they were joined, brushing against Shepard, amazed at her long wail. He could feel himself coming undone, bucking up into his friend, his confiidant, his lover, reaching his limit.

She cried his name, voice breathy, setting his nerves ablaze. He sat up and pushed himself up against her, pressing his hard chest into her soft breasts, grinding harder, daring the impossible to happen - that he could give her sweet release again.

She quickly adjusted and her fingers fell around his neck, tickling the tips of his fringe, driving him wilder. His arms settled on her waist, on her soft curves, and he helped her move faster, his chest reverberating from his groans.

Entwined, empassioned, all concern for ranks and missions and awkwardness fell away, leaving them with only gasps and shivers as they rode together toward ecstacy.

Shepard threw her head back, back arching deeply, a long cry escaping her lips as her muscles contracted wildly against him. "Garrus!" she gasped, shivering as the last remnants of release poured through her.

He held her tighter, eyes shining brightly, pushing into her at a fevered pace. One, two, three more thrusts... He reached the edge of heaven, pleasure exploding.

He pulled out violently, shaking as he caught his release in his hand, Shepard balancing clumsily in his lap. After the last drops finally escaped, she moved off of him and reached for a towel near the bed. Some far-off part of Garrus was impressed; he knew she was always prepared, but her foresight here astounded him. Grateful, he cleaned himself up and pulled her close.

They collapsed down onto the bed, breathing heavily, just holding each other, basking in their afterglow.

Shepard pulled the covers over them and turned her head into Garrus's neck, nuzzling him. He laid his head on top of hers, hand idly stroking her back. He had almost drifted to sleep when he heard her quiet whisper: "Thank you."

He chuckled. "Thank you, Shepard."

"Should do this again after the mission," she slurred, fatigue thickening her tongue. His heart gave a little leap, knowing there really could be a next time.

"Don't know what you see in me, Shepard," he murmured, eyes falling shut, "but I'm damn glad you do."

"Your voice," she mumbled, fading fast, "sexy. Fearless... Trust you..." She slid her hand across his chest, over his heart. "Stay with me, Garrus."

He wrapped her hand in his. "Always, Shepard."

Exhausted, sore, and satisfied beyond measure, the lovers slept.


End file.
